Hey, how about those Boys of Summer, and I’m not talkin’ bout those so-called Blue Jays, if you know what I mean, and what I mean is we’ve got enough dang blue jays around these parts to last a lifetime. Those Jay birds have a lot of nerve, using spit in the middle of a game to polish their balls…er, perhaps I should re-word that one. What I meant to say was to make their balls stick to the glove so they don’t accidentally drop them.
No one was enjoying watching the players toss their balls back and forth more than ‘Albert the Killer Kat,’ who was sitting atop my tummy, with his head held high and his eyes focused on those balls being tossed back and forth and then slapped with a bat. I do believe he must have thought those balls were bald eagles. Albert seemed amused when these Jay birds and Dodgers were running around in circles and falling down backwards, then slappin’ each others’ paws… uh, hands.
Anyway, those Dodger boys in blue had me worried for a while and I didn’t think they were gonna make it, but they persevered, and with some help from Will Smith, they won the title of best baseball team in the known universe.
Nobody on the road, nobody on the beach. I feel it in the air, the summer’s out of reach… I never will forget those nights, I wonder if it was a dream… Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said ‘Don’t look back, you can never look back”… I can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone. (“Boys Of Summer – Don Henley – 1984.)
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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